


Should I Tear My Eyes Out Now?

by anthroxagorus



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Joker is so pretty and I cAN'T haNdLe it, M/M, PTSD, Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Sexy Times, UST, everyone should go to therapy honestly, not sure how graphic we gonna get tbh, this ship has taken over my mind and I blame twitter, unconventional therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthroxagorus/pseuds/anthroxagorus
Summary: Harley Quinn thinks Batman needs therapy in order to sort out his feelings for Joker and she's all too happy to offer her own services. Unfortunately, Batman thinks she might be right. Margaritas? check. Nachos? check. Talking about our feelings? Rather suppress it.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Should I Tear My Eyes Out Now?

They met up at Taco Dirty to Me, Harley Quinn’s spot for the lunch hour when the doors were locked, the owner on break, and Harley was treated to one meal to keep watch of the place. This wasn’t a particularly unusual place for her and Bats to meet up, but it wasn’t a favorite spot. Taco Dirty, like Harley Quinn, wasn’t a serious-looking place. It didn’t seem a promising place to get information, but Batman had found himself underestimating Quinn before, and made a point to not do it again.

Bats slid into the booth before Harley and wasn’t surprised to see twinned margaritas on both sides and a platter of nachos between them, which she’d done a small bit of pecking that now increased at his presence. Today, her half-pink, half-blue hair was swept into a bun and she’d donned a similarly striped blazer for the occasion. 

She then took a long sip of her drink and turned her attention to him.

“I’m going to put all my cards on the table and just get on with it, alright hun?” she started, folding her hands now. “Go ahead and take a drink.”

“Not thirsty,” he said. More and likely, it was nothing more than a watered down margarita, and anything more wasn’t likely to affect him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to drink in front of, well, anyone. 

“Suit yourself,” she said, and straightened her back. “So, Mr. J. It’s obvious what his feelings for you are, and he’s not shy about saying it. The man loves you, he’s obsessed with you -  _ let me finish before you say anything _ .”

Batman grunted instead.

“You was always first with him, even when I was with him. Always on about whether or not you visited him in Arkham, whether you’d be impressed with his plans, whether you was doing okay if he didn’t see you out in a week.” She ate a nacho quickly, then dabbed her lips. “Mr. J was always calculating how to challenge you, how to get you to be better than you already was, just as he was calculating to get under your skin, to get your attention.”

He made to speak, she waved her hand at him.

“It’s more than that,” she continued. “He would  _ die _ for you, just as likely to be the one to kill you and it would’ve had to been him. He’d take a bullet to be sure you didn’t get killed by anyone else, and I know you think of him as crazy, but that’s the only way he knows how to love.” 

She paused, took another long sip of her drink. 

“With me, he did what he thought romance looked like, what he thought I’d like. It wasn’t genuine, but you know, I think he did try for a time…” she trailed off, and Bats wondered if what she thought was a good memory or bad memory or if there was ever anything good about that clown. 

“Anyways,” she said. “I know Mr. J, specially now that I have the distance to think things over, and I understand him. I know him.” She took a breath. “What I can’t wrap my head around is you.”

“Me?” he repeated.

“Cards on the table. What are your feelings for him?” she said bluntly. 

He balked, and she spoke over him once again quickly.

“There ain’t any residual feelings for him, so don’t go worrying about that, but I suspect you don’t know what your feelings are, and not until you deal with them, will you be able to form a healthy, intimate relationship with anyone.”

Now that she’d opened up the space for him to speak, Bats could only open and close his mouth several times. At last, he managed, “Is that what people think of us? That it’s a - that it’s -?”

“No,” she said. “But no one else has had a front row seat to the twos of you _aaand_ a doctorate in psychology.”

“That’s -” Bats said, hating the stammer in his voice, the  _ weakness _ of it. “He’s a psychopath, a degenerate, he’s - there are no words to explain the level of his depravity.” And she thought he was harboring some kind of romance with the clown?!

Harley nodded, waited for him to be done speaking. He was.

She twirled the umbrella of her drink. “It’s a rush to be with him, isn’t it?” she said, lightly. “High stakes, life or death, and no one else in the world’s there when he’s there. Really gets the blood going, huh?” She flickered her gaze at him, but he could only continue to gape at her.

“You really are insane,” he said, finally.

“I’m going to pencil you in for next week, same time, same place, alright? Give you some time to think about what we’ve talked about, hm?”

Behind them, Bats heard the Taco Dirty to Me’s owner shuffle back to the front of the store, unlock the door, and flip the open sign over. Harley winked at him, and gave Batman a small, dismissive wave. He bolted.

* * *

Bruce Wayne, practiced at ignoring any vaguely uncomfortable thought, reassessed the conversation he had had with Harley Quinn that night when he finally submitted to his bed. He would be objective, he would analyze it, and then he could file the whole subject away.

First, he had to recognize that Quinn was coming from what she thought was a good place. Bruce knew she was making strides in doing good and becoming a better person. She was openly honest and too willing to help, and she was offering Bruce (or well, Bats) what she could. 

Bruce then had to remember that for all her quirks, Quinn was an intelligent woman. Although she’d never know it, it was Bruce that had funded the program that ultimately led her to Joker. He’d believed in her at the time. Or, more, he believed in the people that believed in her. In some ways, he still believed in her. 

But did she have a point?

No, that was insane. That was the womanly part of her projecting onto him, or trying to validate Joker’s lack of interest in her, or… something. 

_ “That’s the only way he knows how to love” _

The hell did that mean? 

Fine, maybe,  _ maybe _ , Joker  _ thought _ he was in love with Batman. Maybe he was a f*g, but  _ he _ wasn’t Batman. He was more than Batman. Batman was a persona, a mask he wore. He was Bruce Wayne, too. He was… 

He let out a long, frustrated groan, unable to finish the next set of thoughts that were forming. Quite literally, he was unable to formulate the thought without chasing himself in circles.  Did he even know who he was? 

No, he didn’t have time for this kind of thing. He had a city to protect, a business to run, and very few hours of sleep to get in.

* * *

A week later, he was back at the Taco Dirty to Me. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first fic in the comics world and I'm nervous as hell. Is it compliant to any canon? Does it need to be? I'm following the current Batman run but I have a very tenuous grasp on the scope of the DC world, so what can I say? I guess this story sits somewhere in the blur of UST that constantly surrounds the characters. I just like comics, dig? I just want Bats and Joker to bang, ya feel me??? 
> 
> Anywhos, please drop me a comment and let me know what you think. If you like what you see, I'll try to edit and update faster. 
> 
> Title from Sufjan Stevens's lyrics, because I'm that kind of gay.


End file.
